His Shadow
by Daestwen
Summary: After Archie's death, Horatio can't sleep. And his insomnia is effecting what he is doing. . . and seeing. Third Chapter newly added.
1. Default Chapter

Title: Your Shadow  
  
Part: 1/3  
  
Spoilers: Retribution, and pretty much every one that comes before it, which is all of them.  
  
Rating: PG-13 and that's only because it speaks of death a such. There is noo smut, no need to fear!  
  
Summary: After Archie's death, Horatio can't sleep, and the lack of sleep effects what he is doing. And seeing.  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine. However, I do wish that Jamie Bamber WAS mine. mmm.  
  
AN: Yay. Angst. How we love thee. Hmm. It's not too slashy, though there is a little implied, but only as much as is implied in "Retribution" (like when Archie mumbles "Horatio" in his sleep, hehe), so don't whine if you want more slash, or it you want less. This is angst, man, angst, so get over it! Please R & R!  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Captain Horatio Hornblower of HMS Retribution stood stiff as ever upon the deck of his newly acquired ship. He was not the officer of the watch, but Mr. Hurts, the third Lieutenant, looked ready to fall asleep on his feet, so he had taken over for him. It was dark, and the sea was unsettled, causing the froth to leap just a little over the side to wet Horatio's feet. He ignored the dampness taking over his boots, and kept still on his lookout, not daring to think.  
  
For, he found, thinking meant remembering. And remembering was not something that he wanted to do. It had been a full five days since the trail, a full five days since he had heard Archie Kennedy's last words: See? All better already.  
  
Horatio shivered slightly, pushing the thoughts out of his mind. In those five days he had slept very little. Even less that he had when serving continuous watch under Mr. Sawyer. It wasn't that he didn't want to sleep, he just couldn't. Every time he closed his eyes, Archie's face would loom into his vision, his smile taking over his mind. His laugh, oh that laugh that even in his dying bed he had been sure to keep, that laugh was all he could hear. And that last conversation . . . Those last few words. Oh, how they tortured him. Playing again and again and again in his mind.  
  
It was his fault Archie was dead. His fault, and only his fault. And he had lost his best friend because of his own stupidity.  
  
If they hadn't talked . . . if they had allowed Sawyer to go on in his madness, then he would have never fallen down the hole. Never had his power taken. Never had pushed Mr. Buckland into the Captain's seat. Never made that stupid attack. Never taken those prisoners on the boat. Never have gotten Archie killed.  
  
And stupid, stupid Horatio had not even noticed. He was too caught up with politics, making sure he was going to come out fine, than going to see Archie, to make sure he was all right.  
  
Horatio's muscles tensed on the deck. Everyone else might forgive him his mistakes, but Horatio would never forget. He was his own worst enemy.  
  
"Horatio?"  
  
It was First Lieutenant Bush. He had walked up behind his captain, and Horatio hadn't even noticed.  
  
"Yes, Mr. Bush?" Horatio said, trying not to show that the man had surprised him. Bush walked up beside him, just slightly shorter from the limp that would never go away.  
  
"On watch again, sir? You've been on it straight for almost - "  
  
"I like it here, Mr. Bush." Horatio interrupted. Bush only nodded, looking to the point on the far horizon that both their eyes were focusing on.  
  
"I meant no disrespect, Sir." He said finally, "I was just wondering if you would mind me joining you."  
  
Horatio had to hold the smile in. "It would be an honour, Mr. Bush." They were silent for a time; the only sound the froth of the waves hitting the deck, washing the new paint clean.  
  
"Can't sleep?" Mr. Bush asked finally, his eyes not moving from the horizon.  
  
"Never can." Horatio said quietly.  
  
"Horatio . . ." Bush lowered his head slightly, looking at the patch of deck nearest his feet, "You owe Archie too much to do this."  
  
Horatio stiffened slightly. "I don't know what you mean, Mr. Bush."  
  
"You know very well what I mean, Mr. Hornblower." The formality was gone from Bush's voice now, and he looked up at Horatio, "He didn't die for you so that you could fritter away your life with worry."  
  
"He didn't die for me, sir." Horatio's tongue was like acid, and he trembled slightly as he spoke, "He died because of me."  
  
A sharp jolt of pain on Horatio's cheek caused him to stagger, and when he looked up, Bush was staring fiercely at him.  
  
"I will not have you demean him so." Bush said, his voice equally acidic. "He gave everything to clear your name, and you are the last person in the world who should damn him so."  
  
Horatio didn't reply, raising his hand to touch his burning cheek, the dull surprise stopping him from responding.  
  
"You will get some rest, sir," Bush said spitefully, but Horatio could hear the concern behind the voice, "And you will stop blaming yourself for Archie's death. It was best, do you hear me? He knew it, I knew it, and now you must know it too." He paused, and then continued, his voice softer, "Nothing can bring him back, Horatio. But you will scar him if you don't fight for what he gave you."  
  
Horatio was silent for a long period of time, until he nodded slowly. "I assume you will take the watch?" He said quietly.  
  
Bush only let a small smile escape to his lips before he nodded, and Horatio turned away to his cabin.  
  
  
  
Horatio lay in the dark for what must have been hours. Whenever his eyes closed, all he could see were two lifeless blue eyes staring back at him. He lay in a damp sweat, tying to make himself so tired that he would fall into a dreamless sleep. However, try as he might, it wasn't working. He sighed deeply, and sat up.  
  
And that's when he saw him.  
  
Horatio nearly fell out of his bunk, as his eyes landed on the man standing at the end of the room.  
  
Third Lieutenant Archie Kennedy smiled, his hands clasped behind his back. He was wearing his uniform, but the jacket and waistcoat were open, the white shirt under it dyed with his own red blood.  
  
"A-archie?" He stammered, unable to believe it.  
  
The young man's eyes twinkled, as he walked towards him.  
  
"Of course not, Horatio, I'm Captain Pellew, with a neat new disguise, and a bull whip ready to beat you back into shape." He laughed, that same laugh that had been haunting Horatio for five days.  
  
"You're . . . you're not real . . ." Horatio stammered, his mind reeling.  
  
"Oh, come on man, of course I'm not real. Daft, that's what you are."  
  
"But . . . but . . ."  
  
"Captain Hornblower, Sir!!"  
  
Archie's image was shattered as Matthews suddenly broke in through the door, breathing heavily, his boson's hat tipped at a dangerous angle.  
  
"Captain, sir!!" He repeated franticly.  
  
"What is it, Matthews?" Horatio said, trying to shake the image of Archie out of his mind.  
  
"French corvettes, sir! And gaining quickly!"  
  
Horatio leaped out of his bunk, all thoughts of Archie gone from his mind as he grabbed his hat and jacket and ran back up on deck.  
  
"How many guns, Mr. Bush?" Horatio yelled to the First Lieutenant.  
  
"30 on each, sir! They're on full sail and gaining quickly!!"  
  
"That's 60 to our 32. Even chance, eh Mr. Bush!"  
  
"Very even, sir!"  
  
"Have they spotted our colours yet, Mr. Matthews?"  
  
The boson had no time to answer, as a cannonball struck the water dangerously close to the stern, causing the water to leap up onto the deck.  
  
"I would guess so, sir!" He finally answered.  
  
"OPEN PORTS!" Horatio cried over the noise, as men rushed back and forth to do his bidding.  
  
The Midshipmen and the lieutenants ran for they're men, loading the cannonballs and readying the canons.  
  
"FIRE AT WILL!" Horatio cried, and then heard several of the officer's shout: "Fire!"  
  
The explosions rocked the ship, and Horatio's hand went to the rail to steady himself as a cannonball hit the deck, showering splinters in all directions.  
  
"HER HULL!! CRIPPLE HER, DAMMIT!!" He screamed, as the canons blasted away to comply with his order. Suddenly a cannonball hit the bridge of one of the French corvettes, and a huge ball of flame engulfed the ship. A cheer went up from the men, as they turned their sights to the second corvette.  
  
"She's going to board us!!" The cry came from somewhere, and Horatio recognized the voice, but couldn't place it.  
  
"PREPARE FOR BOARDING!" he cried, and suddenly the ship slammed their sides together, the French leaping from the rigging to crash onto the deck of the Retribution.  
  
"CHARGE!!" 


	2. part2

The Frenchmen were among them at once, and Horatio found himself fighting for his life, pistol in one hand, sword in the other, blood splattering across his white shirt, stinging his eyes. He cried words that he would not be able to recall after the battle, and time seemed to slow down, leaving him to scream his wordless screams, as he heard nothing else but the beating of his own heart. He turned suddenly, as if warned by a sixth sense, only to just manage to block the wide swing of a sword coming down upon his head. He shoved the Frenchmen with his foot, sending him sprawling onto the floor, and shoved his sword through the body with one quick strike. And then he was back into the battle again. He could not tell if the battle lasted hours or mere seconds, but suddenly it was over, and a horse cry went up from the crew.  
  
"Horatio!" A blood-speckled man ran up to him, his blue eyes dancing and his reddish blond hair glinting in the sun. Archie. "Did you see?? Did you see?? I killed two!! Well . . . one . . . sadly. But where were you?"  
  
And then he was gone. As quickly as Horatio's friend had been before his eyes, he was gone again.  
  
Horatio hadn't realised that he had collapsed to the floor until Matthews was helping him sit up, and Bush was kneeling by his feet, his face wreathed with worry.  
  
"Are you alright, sir?" Matthews asked.  
  
"Where is the doctor??" Asked Bush impatiently, "MR. THOMPSON!!"  
  
"I'm fine." Horatio said, but his voice sounded weaker than he expected it to be,  
  
"I'm unhurt."  
  
"Unhurt??" Cried Matthew, unable to hold the smile, "Sir, you have a gash half way up your arm!"  
  
Horatio looked down, and indeed, his right arm was soaked in his own blood. "Oh." He said weakly.  
  
Mr. Thompson arrived, his apron bloodied from head to toe as he approached.  
  
"Sir?" He asked Bush.  
  
"Good god, man." Lieutenant Bush said, quite frustrated, "Your captain is on the ground! See to him, man!"  
  
"Aye aye, sir. Out of the way, now." He pushed the small crowd that had gathered around Horatio out of the way as he tended to his arm.  
  
Horatio sat patiently, dully noting to himself that his arm didn't hurt. He looked up at Bush, who stood, obviously more than a little worried, a few paces away.  
  
"It never hurts, does it, in the beginning?"  
  
Horatio frowned, and tried to focus on the man that had somehow appeared beside Bush.  
  
"Mine didn't. It wasn't for a few minutes that it started hurting. Not until I talked to you."  
  
"Archie . . . " Horatio mumbled, frowning. The doctor didn't hear him, but Horatio saw Bush's worried frown deepen. And then Archie was gone again.  
  
"He'll mend find." The doctor said after a moment, after he had bandaged Horatio's arm. Styles and Matthews helped their captain to his feet, and dusted him off.  
  
"There you go, sir," Matthew said in the kind tone that Horatio had heard many times before, "On your feet now."  
  
"I suggest, Captain Hornblower, that you get some rest." Mr. Thompson said as he moved on to the next patient. Horatio nodded, and excused himself, making his way to his cabin.  
  
He opened his door, and almost shut it, before he saw Bush in the doorway, the worried frown still upon his face.  
  
"Why did you collapse, Horatio?"  
  
"It must have been shock . . ."  
  
"Why did you collapse, Horatio?" Bush asked again. Horatio frowned, but didn't reply.  
  
"I heard you mutter." Bush continued, "You saw him, didn't you?"  
  
Horatio sniffed. "I don't know what you are talking about, Mr. Bu- - "  
  
"You know very well what and who and I am talking about, Horatio." Bush said sternly, "Did you or did you not see Archie Kennedy on the deck?"  
  
There was a long pause.  
  
"I'm not insane, Bush."  
  
"I know you aren't." Bush said quietly, "But you haven't slept in five days. Oh, don't even start arguing with me; I've had the boys keep an eye out. And you snore like a pig, so I'd know if you were sleeping; I live in the next room, remember?"  
  
Horatio didn't answer.  
  
"Did you see him?" Bush repeated.  
  
"Yes." Horatio said stiffly, though he couldn't tell if the expression upon Bush's face was relief or despair. "Three times."  
  
Bush didn't say a word, urging his friend to continue with silence.  
  
"The first . . . " Horatio's voice cracked, but he swallowed, and his voice continued with more strength. "The first was early this morning . . . right before the battle. He was speaking gibberish . . . something about being Captain Pellew in disguise, and then laughing and calling me daft because I could not tell if he was real . . ." He paused, and looked at Bush, but the first Lieutenant had washed the emotion from his face and only watched Horatio. Hornblower took a deep breath and continued. "The second time was right after the battle . . . he came up to me, just like on the Indy, saying that he had killed two Frenchmen - or was it one? - With that joyful look on his face. I suppose that's where I collapsed. And then just now . . . Beside you. He said that it never hurt right after. It always hurt later. His did, he said."  
  
There was a minute or two of silence, and Horatio saw Bush's brows furrow slightly.  
  
"Three times . . . " he repeated to himself, "Three times in the last . . .what . . . four hours?" He looked at Horatio, squinting ever so slightly, looking as if he was trying to see through Horatio. "You need to sleep."  
  
"I can't."  
  
"You can. And you will."  
  
"I. Can't." Horatio repeated.  
  
"Why, then?"  
  
"He won't let me." Horatio said quietly.  
  
"No, Horatio. You won't let yourself sleep. Archie would never do that to you." There was a sparkle of knowing in Bush's eyes, and Horatio frowned slightly, but didn't question upon it.  
  
"You cannot know what the dead would do, sir." He said stiffly.  
  
"Aye, the dead, but I know what Archie would do, and I know what you always do. It wasn't your fault, so stop taking the blame for it and sleep, man!"  
  
"It's not that simple."  
  
"Oh, aye, not that simple. It's called closing your eyes- - "  
  
"It makes it worse."  
  
Bush's eyes focused even harder upon his friend's face.  
  
"You are impossible." He said, "And if you weren't my captain, I'd also say you were bloody stubborn. Go to sleep, Horatio. You're killing yourself this way."  
  
And with that, Bush was gone, the door shutting behind him. 


	3. part3

As Horatio sat down on his bed, he started to dimly feel pain in his arm. The blood had soaked the bandages, but it was dark, and most was dry, so the wound must have stopped bleeding. Archie was right . . . He thought to himself, as he closed his eyes and drifted off into the first sleep he had in five days.  
  
  
  
"Horatio!"  
  
The room was dark, and Horatio couldn't see the walls, but for some reason Archie stood before him, as brightly lit as if on a deck in full sun.  
  
"At last your asleep!!" He said, beaming from ear to ear. Horatio didn't say anything, except try to remember where he was. Archie laughed, and batted Horatio's shoulder lightly.  
  
"You're dreaming! And don't worry; you'll probably not remember anything when you wake up. By gods, though, you look terrible! Have you not been sleeping?" Horatio knew that this figure knew the answer, as he could see the sparkle of knowledge in its eyes.  
  
"Ah well, hardly matters, as here you are at last!" He laughed with mirth for a minute, but didn't move.  
  
"Are you real?" Horatio asked quietly.  
  
Archie only smiled. "Well, I suppose not. Actually, I'm not really sure what to say . . . Stuck in Purgatory, wouldn't you know. Awful place. Very boring. But don't you worry, I won't leave until you arrive, at least." He smiled, "Hmm. Well, I'm supposed to say something useful . . . So at least I'll try." His smile faded slightly, to be replaced with a worried frown. "I want you to forgive yourself."  
  
"You aren't real." Horatio said, trying to keep his best friends voice out of his mind. "You're dead."  
  
"Of course I'm dead, sir. I think I noticed. But you soon will be too if you don't let it go."  
  
"I don't deserve to live. You do." Horatio said, slightly bitterly.  
  
"If you say that I swear I will haunt you for the rest of your days!" He said threateningly. "Now look, Horatio, I was going to die anyway. If I hadn't done what I had done, BOTH of us would be dead and neither of us would have a good name!" He huffed, but then couldn't stop himself from smiling.  
  
"You always smiled when we were in trouble . . ." Horatio whispered, frowning.  
  
"Aye, and you are in trouble, old friend. I want you to promise to forget about me." Archie stood stiff, the smile was gone from his face now, and he looked resolute in his decision.  
  
"What?' Horatio asked, confused, "Archie, what are you- --"  
  
"Forget. About. Me." Archie said slowly, boring holes into Horatio with his eyes. "I can't let you do this to yourself. Your men need you. The king needs you. And by god, I will not see you run yourself down and push everything onto Bush. You have to forget."  
  
Horatio noted silently to himself that Archie's fists were clamped tight, and he was trembling slightly.  
  
"Archie, but-"  
  
"Do it, Horatio."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because you have to!"  
  
"But I can't . . . "  
  
"Horatio, you will forget it. Forget it. Do you understand me?"  
  
"But how . . .?"  
  
"Stop thinking about it. Stop remembering. Give my name to a different face or SOMETHING, Horatio! I'm gone, do you hear? And nothing, nothing can bring me back."  
  
There was a long pause as the two men looked at each other, Archie quivering with silent anger, and Horatio feeling on the edge of despair. The edges of the room weren't noticeable, if indeed, they were there. Horatio said not a word as he saw a small tear fall from the corner of Archie's eye, and watched silently as it fell down his cheek.  
  
"Please, Horatio. Just take what I gave you and forget."  
  
There was another long pause, and Horatio could feel his own tears blurring his vision, as he bowed his head, and brought it back up to look at Archie.  
  
"Aye aye, sir."  
  
And the tear fell.  
  
  
  
The end.  
  
  
  
Epilogue  
  
***  
  
Six months later, Horatio was sitting with Bush on the mid-deck, tossing a stone back and forth and they laughed and talked together. Horatio seemed to have forgotten, and he was happy again, in charge of his own ship, where the crew seemed to love him, and the French feared him.  
  
Archie sat in the rigging, humming to himself under his breath, smiling as he watched the stone being passed back and forth.  
  
"Don't worry, Horatio." Archie said to himself, though no one would be able to hear him anyway, "I'll make sure those Frogs don't kill you before you're time. Just make sure you enjoy the time you have. The time I gave you." He smiled, his eyes twinkling, "Which I am glad I did." 


End file.
